


For All I Lost And All I Found

by jasonptodd



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, I'm Bad At Summaries, M/M, Spoilers, basically a retelling of the movie somewhere in there, for the winter soldier, i cried a lot while watching bucky, my first marvel fiction, recommended soundtrack: bastille and lana del rey, so don't read this if you don't want any spoilers, so please don't give too much for the summary it's very confused and i am confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasonptodd/pseuds/jasonptodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And if he should go down like this, then so it shall be.</p><p>Alone, at least, Steve thinks as he is falling through the quiet mid-air, with nothing moving, and him being able to hear his heart beat and crashing onto the waves with a roaring noise that leaves his aching body thundering and the world goes dark once more.</p><p>--</p><p>There used to be a "we".<br/>There used to be a "youandme".</p><p>What is there now: Confusion. Whiteness.</p><p>You were there. From the start.<br/>(this is not how our end should have been)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It's a brochure lying on the counter in Tony's highly sophisticated kitchen that catches Steve's attention while he's trying to kill time, waiting for new instructions from S.H.I.E.L.D. Tony told Steve to “relax in my place til I get back and the party started” (which isn't really what Steve planned, but he's learned not to say no to Tony).

 

 _PTSD – Symptoms, Triggers, Treatments_ , it reads on the cover. Steve takes it, looking around nervously as if he had to be ashamed.

 

_Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) usually develops after a person is exposed to a traumatic event (e.g. sexual assault, severe injury). PTSD is found particularly often in war veterans. Typical symptoms that lead to a diagnosis are:_

  * _Flashbacks to the traumatic incident_

  * _Avoidance of memories of the incident_

  * _Hyperarousal_

_for more than a month after the traumatic incident._




Steve blinks a few times, but reads on.

 

_Rates of PTSD are higher in combat veterans than other men, with a rate estimated at up to 20% for veterans returning from Iraq and Afghanistan._

He looks behind him nervously, to check if anyone's coming, even though he doesn't know why.

 

_PTSD symptoms can follow any serious psychological trauma, such as exposure to combat, accidents, torture, disasters, criminal assault and exposure to atrocities or to the sequelae of such extraordinary events. Prisoners of war exposed to harsh treatment are particularly prone to develop PTSD. In their acute presentation these symptoms, which include subsets of a large variety of affective, cognitive, perceptional, emotional and behavioral responses which are relatively normal responses to gross psychological trauma. If persistent, however, they develop a life of their own and may be maintained by inadvertent reinforcement. Early intervention and later avoidance of positive reinforcement (which may be subtle) for such symptoms is a critical preventive measure."_

_Studies have shown that those prepared for the potential of a traumatic experience are more prepared to deal with the stress of a traumatic experience and therefore –_

 

“Hey, Ice Queen, what'cha reading?”

 

“Nothing”, Steve mumbles and puts the brochure back on the counter. Tony raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything. That's unusual. “I...I better get home, I think I...forgot my wallet.”

Which is the cheapest excuse he can think of. Tony shrugs. (Odd.) “Yeah, you gonna come back later for the party?”, he asks, and it sounds like he's trying too hard to sound relaxed.

 

“Um. I don't know. I. It's been a rough day”, Steve murmurs. Tony nods. “Right, cool. See you then. Go to beauty sleep, snow fairy.”

 

Steve has to grin. When he walks out, Tony calls: “Hey, Steve?”

 

He turns around.

 

“Take a day off”, Tony says and fumbles around with some cocktail shaker in the kitchen. “Seriously. Relax for a bit.”

 

And he looks up and smiles.

 

“Yeah. Sure, I will”, Steve replies confused.

 

On his way out he thinks about Tony, and how he's changed in the little time Steve has known him, and he thinks about that time Tony told him they were no soldiers, and how hurt he looked, and how Tony always seemed to be tired, and nervous, somehow. And he thinks about the brochure.

 

And he remembers when he was very young, a woman lived in the shelter down the street who was mumbling to herself constantly and sometimes insulted people going by.

The first time she did that, Steve was six years old and his mother was just returning from grocery shopping with him, and when he walked by, the woman hissed “you fag, you bastard, you whore, you...”.

Steve remembers being so shocked that he turned around immediately and started crying. His mother just shushed him and walked on quickly. Later she explained people like this woman were called schizophrenic.

He had thought giving it a name would make it less frightening, but it didn't. The name just made it scarier.

 

He feels like that now, over eighty years later.

 

Post-traumatic Stress Disorder.

Disorder.

It's a disorder.

 

Steve tries to breathe evenly, but fails.

 

Sick. I'm sick, he thinks, and the words in the brochure build up to pyramides in his head and tumble and fall apart again, and is head is swarming of them, typical symptoms that lead to a diagnosis are flashbacks to the traumatic incident, avoidance of memories of the incident, hyperarousal, flashbacks, avoidance, hyperarousal, flashbacks, avoidance, hyperarousal, flashbacks, avoidance, flashbacks, post-traumatic stress disorder, stress, disorder, disorder, disorder.

 

He was a hero, a long time ago, and now he's a hero again, they tell him.

 

What kind of hero kills his best friend, he wants to say, but they're already gone and nobody listens to him anymore.

 

-

 

“Steve, are you alright?”, Natasha asks, and for the first time in days her voice isn't blurred and hard to understand as if they were underwater.

 

“Sure”, he replies and proceeds to munch down his cereals.

 

“Don't play the hero again”, she says and gets up from the table.

 

I have to, Steve says in his thoughts.

 

He dreams of the train most times, when he manages to fall asleep anyways, and he wakes up sweating.

 

I'm a soldier, he repeats over and over again, a soldier.

 

-

 

“Steve?”

 

Triggers for flashbacks can be certain sounds, colours, words or environments. Flashbacks can, however, occur without particular triggers as well. Therapies can help find out the source and context of these triggers, which sometimes are key elements of the trauma.

 

“Steve, open the door.”

 

Natasha sounds concerned.

 

“I'm alright”, Steve shouts and buries his face in his hands.

 

What kind of soldier is a man who has no control over his actions?

 

What kind of soldier is a man who doesn't trust himself?

 

What kind of soldier is a man who sees the same face in all fallen men?

 

Steve falls asleep.

 

He knows that because someone taps on his shoulder and says “Want some?”, and as Steve turns around, it's Bucky who holds out the popcorn bag and they're in a cinema, and Bucky smiles and says, you look good, and Steve says, so do you, and the movie that's on is a movie about them, and the train comes around the corner, and then Bucky says, that's my favourite scene, and as the movie Bucky screams and falls, the Bucky behind him vanishes and suddenly there's Peggy who says, come on, Steve, time to wake up, but that's not her own voice, and then Steve wakes up and Natasha is shaking him and he sits up.

 

I had a weird dream, he says.

 

Why are you crying, Natasha asks.

 

I'm not –

 

He is in fact crying.

 

I don't know, Steve says.

 

When they get the mission to free the hostages held on the ship, he gladly accepts.

 

When Nick shows him the Helicarriers, Steve instinctively takes a step back.

 

That's not freedom, he says, that's fear.

 

Nick doesn't believe him.

Nick doesn't believe a lot of things, but then everything goes haywire and Nick is dead and Steve is suddenly hunted by the entire S.H.I.E.L.D. and loses everything once again.

 

Everything but his focus.

 

He is a soldier, and he is good, and that's why he doesn't lose focus for fairly long.


	2. Chapter 2

“Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier.”

 

Something flickers inside Steve, but he can't quite put a finger on it and he doesn't want to either.

 

–

 

Steve visits two meetings and then decides having people around him who talk about exactly the part of his memories he would rather have left in the Arctic isn't quite his idea of a good time. (But then again, nowadays few things are.)

 

“There are wounds that...that just don't heal. I mean, you can do therapy and all that, and sure, it gets better as time passes, but in the end, the hole never...never goes away.”

 

The guy can't be older than twenty-five, because he said he enlisted in the Army right after he graduated from high school and was stationed in Iraq for two years before a tank blew up his unit “and sent me mad as hell, and now I'm here”. He looks much older, though.

 

“And I don't know what's worse, remembering it all, for every second of my life, or wishing that I could forget it. Them. Everyone.”

 

Most people nod in agreement.

 

Steve leaves the building and goes running.

 

–

 

The Winter Soldier is impossibly strong, fast and focused when fighting.

But so is Steve.

It's remarkable how they line up and synchronize, perfectly polar opposites on the exact same level of skill, every move a hit, every step a full-on attack.

And it feels familiar and Steve can't think of any reason why it would be, because he's never fought anyone like that, anyone who seemed to foresee each and every one of his movements, who demanded the very best of Steve. It's almost provocative how he goes further every time, as if he asked, is that all you got?

 

In the end, it's the only explanation that makes sense.

And still, it doesn't?

 

“Bucky?”, and that's not all Steve asks, it's really so much more, but there are no words to express the universe his head opens up and the colours tumbling in it.

 

“Who the hell is Bucky?”, the Winter Soldier asks.

 

–

 

Steve's dreams have been the same forever, but naturally he's never told anyone.

 

That night he dreams something else.

 

The sequence in the movie theater is still playing over and over again, but this time the Bucky behind him stays and then his face changes and his arm lying on Steves shoulder becomes cold and hard and his uniform turns black and his eyes dark, so dark and unhuman.

 

“Who the hell is Bucky?”, he asks, but this time it sounds pleading, not aggressive and demanding like the real Winter Soldier.

 

Steve wants to answer. But he doesn't know.

 

“Bucky was...”, he starts, but breaks off.

 

–

 

“ _I can help you”, Bucky offers, “if you – you know, need something.”_

 

“ _I'll be fine, thanks”, Steve replies._

 

“ _You sure? Cause, um, I don't want you to – I mean, I know you and you'd never tell me if you really needed something, –”_

 

“ _Bucky”, Steve interrupts him, “you're here, that's more than enough, alright?”_

 

_It really is._

 

_Bucky is there. All the time._

 

_He's there when Steve gets beaten up at school, and when he visits his mother's grave on the anniversary of her death, and when he's rejected from service (for the first time)._

 

_Bucky is there on Christmas Eve, and when Steve asks him why he isn't spending his Christmas elsewhere – and, unspoken, he asks for the millionth time why Bucky instead decides to be here, in a miserable, cold, half-lit flat with_ him _–, he gets up from the couch and puts on the Bing Crosby record he gave Steve for Christmas (“'cause, you know, it's never too early for Christmas presents”)._

_Then he pours two glasses of whiskey and hands one to Steve._

“ _To friends?”, Steve asks._

 

_Bucky seems a bit lost for a moment, then nods._

“ _Sure. To friends.”_

 

_He empties his glass with one big gulp._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this being super short, but I promise I got some aces left, and I'll write as much as I can this week.
> 
> And thank you so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

_A week later they're in a bar, and when Steve returns from the toilet, Bucky is sitting at some girls' table and laughing, and Steve tries to convince himself his stomach is clenching because he's getting sick again, but he knows it's not true._

_Then Bucky looks up and in the middle of a grin, his face freezes and the girl he's put an arm around keeps laughing and then looks at him and her brow furrows and she asks Bucky something, but he just shakes his head and doesn't reply._

_...and Steve doesn't see the rest of them because he's already out of the bar and walking fast, almost running and he doesn't know just why he_ cares _so much, but it doesn't matter._

“ _Steve?”, Bucky calls after him, but not this time, Steve thinks, at some point I need to prioritize._

_He spends the first six weeks of the new year working out and working out until his muscles are aching when he gets up and when he falls asleep and the whole time in between, and breathing is hard, and he's scared he'll get pneumonia again, which only makes him work harder._

 

_He's beaten up by a guy in a back alley regardless, which shouldn't surprise him (but it does)._

_It only makes him work harder._

 

_I've been rejected once, he thinks, that doesn't mean anything._

 

_In the middle of February some guys from the neighbourhood beat him up after he's been rejected from service again. “Fucking queer, who needs guys like you in the army”, one of them laughs._

_They leave him between the trash cans, and he gets up, but trips immediately. It hurts more than he likes to admit. Just for a second he closes his eyes, and he feels humiliated and so angry at himself. When he touches his nose, a sharp pain pierces his veins and head, blurring his vision for a long moment. It's probably broken._

 

“ _You really never back up”, someone remarks._

_The someone better hurry up and leave him alone, Steve thinks bitterly, because that's really the last one he needs right now._

 

“ _C'mon, let's patch you up”, Bucky smiles as he helps Steve get up._

“ _I've been looking for you, you know”, he murmurs as he drags Steve along who by now at least manages to stand on his own feet, and then he doesn't say anything for a long time._

 

“ _I've been rejected again”, Steve says when they're at Bucky's place._

_Bucky is soaking a rag in gin and gently starts cleaning Steve's wounds. It's an agreement they have without words, that it's alright as long as neither of them addresses it._

“ _I'm sorry”, Bucky says, with a voice that is rougher than usual and Steve shrugs. “I can try again”, he says as confidently as he can, but he can't quite hide the disappointment in his voice._

“ _I can help you...like, with working out and stuff”, Bucky replies quietly and after a while adds, “if you want, I mean.”_

_Steve just nods._

“ _Shirt off”, Bucky says, and Steve does so. The next minutes are silent until Bucky hands him the rag._

“ _I think that's been the worst, just press it on the smaller cuts 'n'stuff”, he mumbles somehow hoarsely and leaves the room._

_Steve cleans up his wounds and puts his shirt back on. The cuts and scratches burn, but it's nothing compared to the heavy ball forming in his stomach._

 

_There is so much that hangs in the room unspoken that Steve sometimes feels like he can't breathe._

_And sometimes there are moments, when Bucky slides closer while they're sitting on the couch, when Steve wakes up with Bucky's face inches away because they were home too late and just fell into bed, sleeping right away, when he feels Bucky's breath on his ear because he's leaning over in an overcrowded bar after a few drinks to whisper stupid jokes and laugh hoarsely, that feel like_ more _._

_Except Steve knows they aren't._

–

“ _Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing in the morning.”_

 

_Steve's happy, really. 'Course he'll miss Bucky, he's his best friend, and now he's got no one to go to Coney Island with, and he's just getting impatient waiting for his transfer._

_That's what he tells himself, at least, when he goes home and Bucky goes out with the girls. Steve pours himself a glass of whiskey, and another, and a third._

_He feels tired, but can't go to bed, and lonely, but can't talk to anyone, and ashamed, but can't stop drowning in despair._

 

_Around eleven, or twelve, or maybe one in the morning, there's a knock on the door and a call._

“ _Steve, open the damn door!”_

_When Steve opens the door, he finds a Bucky who's reeking of booze, and cigarettes, and can only stand up holding onto the doorframe._

“ _Steve”, he mumbles and looks up and his face lights up. “Steve”, he says again, pushing him in and closing the door with his foot and it sounds_ hungry _._

_He shoves Steve against a wall, and they're_ dangerously _close, but Steve couldn't care less and he ought to push away, but then Bucky's glance catches his eyes and Bucky looks so desperate and then he whispers “please” and Steve doesn't need to answer, because what's unspoken hangs between them with every breath and every touch and every time Bucky put his arm around Steve and Steve grinned at him and every time they fell asleep on the couch and woke up tangled, pretending nothing happened._

_But that was pretending, and this,_ this _is real._

_Bucky moves forward and presses his lips on Steve's and presses in, and smashes them together and grabs his head, pulling him closer and fiercely shoving a leg between Steve's and Steve kisses him back, actually kisses him, and what's unspoken tangles in their mouths and their tongues say it without saying it. Bucky tastes of gin, and whiskey, and despair, and_ happiness _. When Steve moves his leg a bit, he can feel Bucky's erection press against his hip, and Bucky whispers “_ Steve _”, but it's so much more he says._

_After a while, an eternity or a minute, they somehow move closer to the living room, and end up on the couch, and it's a mess,_ they're _a mess. Steve is the first one to take off his shirt, and then he unbuttons Bucky's, and Bucky just stares at him with wide eyes and then he says, “you know, I – I meant what I s-said before, I don't, don't want you to do anyth-ing stupid when I'm gone”, and then he says a million other things, but the words and the meaning start swishing together and Steve just kisses Bucky and whispers, “I won't, I won't, I won't”, until he's out of breath._

_They don't need words after that._

_The air feels so hot, and they go on for ages, touching every inch of each other's body, until they're exhausted and breathless._

_They fall asleep tangled and woven and lying on each other._

–

_When Steve wakes up, he is alone._

_Then he remembers._

_And then he doesn't remember for a long time because there's too much he needs to focus on._

_(And remembering hurts.)  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the endless flashback but I couldn't stop myself from writing /that/ again.  
> Thanks so much for reading! You're awesome!


	4. Chapter 4

_When Steve finds Bucky again, he is relieved as he's never been in his life, and he's overjoyed and for the most simply happy._

_Something's changed, though._

_Steve tries to ignore the uneasy feeling, because if there's one thing he wants more than anything, it's_ his _Bucky, the Bucky he had for not even one night, and for a lifetime._

_But he knows that's just selfish._

 

_Bucky never loses a word about what they did to him, but Steve knows there must have been something._

_He never asks._

 

_Once again, the weight of the unspoken makes it hard to breathe._

 

_They scarcely touch, and sometimes, when their fingers brush, Bucky flinches and in his eyes Steve can read a million apologies. Bucky still laughs, and their coordination is just over the top, but there are moments when Steve thinks it's impossible to reach him._

 

_The war goes on, and taking down the HYDRA bases starts to become routine._

_Steve doesn't know if that's a good thing._

 

_Once, Bucky takes down at least twenty HYDRA soldiers without twitching once. Steve looks back at him and thinks, could they, would they have worked in another life?_

 

_Bucky pulls the trigger._

 

_There is no other life._

_There's just this one._

 

(That's not entirely true, Steve finds out, when he wakes up an unlived life later and the world he knows has imploded a million times, leaving him but a few straws to work his way out of the ruins again. But Steve doesn't know that yet, doesn't know a lot yet about everything that will turn around and swirl about and go in the wrongest way possible.)

 

_That evening, in their tent, after they've slurped down what was once supposed to be soup and gone to bed, Steve doesn't sleep for a long time, and then turns around, facing Bucky who has closed his eyes, but his unrhythmical breathing gives it away._

_Steve slides closer, just a bit, a bit, a bit._

_Finally, Bucky smiles._

“ _'Could just've said something, y'know”, he murmurs and opens his eyes and Steve almost backs up because this is a genuine smile in Bucky's eyes and it's_ home _, it's_ his _Bucky._

“ _'Could just've done something”, Steve replies and Bucky just shakes his head, “don't -”, and kisses him._

_The kiss is an apology, but Steve doesn't need, doesn't_ want _an apology, and he doesn't want an explanation and he doesn't want words that are too much for now, and when Bucky says them, and, worse, kisses them everywhere – Steve wouldn't be surprised waking up covered in letters that are unable to wash off –, Steve feels his insides turn up and clench and knot and he silences Bucky by kissing him everywhere he can reach, taking in his smell, his taste, his_ feel _._

 

(Decades later Steve will want to tear out his insides for not letting Bucky speak, for interrupting each sentence, spoken or unspoken, for being too much of a coward to finish this, for being reckless and wanting to prove everyone every single time except this once, why not then? why not Bucky? and he _doesn't know_.)

_Bucky apologizes, Steve doesn't understand why, so he only whispers “it's alright”, their words tangle, mix, muss themselves, it'salrighti'msorryit'salrighti'msorryit'salrighti'msorryalrightsorryalrightsorryalrightsorryialrightsorryalrightalrightalright –_

_I love you, Bucky says._

 

_Steve wakes up alone, covered in letters, h, i, s, h, i, s, h, i, s, over and over again._

_He's marked everywhere and as he puts on his uniform, he marvels at the letters that form words he cannot think yet, and Steve feels proud._

 

_Bucky returns to their tent, grinning. “Ready for the last round?”, he asks and for a second Steve isn't sure what exactly he means, until whatever fell out of place last night clicks back in._

“ _Sure”, he replies, smiling, “Let's smash 'em.”_

 

_A few hours later they're standing on a ledge, waiting for a train to come around the corner to lower down on it, which is probably the most ridiculous thing Steve has ever done._

 

“ _Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone on Coney Island?”_

 

_Steve smiles and replies, “yeah, and I threw up?”_

 

“ _This isn't payback, is it?”, Bucky asks and Steve briefly thinks this is a_ more than _moment, but then it's over, and he grins and cheekily asks, “now why would I do that?”_

 

–

 

That's who Bucky was.

 

And who he will never be again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, you're amazing!!


	5. Chapter 5

Steve is supposed to do his job, so he does it.

 

Until there's the Winter Soldier.

 

He pleads. He fights. He breaks and shatters and doesn't know how to find himself in the million parts orbiting the man who has taken off his mask, but he hasn't, because his face is unknown.

 

(And that's what it was, wasn't it?

 

I orbited you, I went where you went, and everything I did was to ensure you wouldn't leave me, because I was a small kid from Brooklyn and you were the cool guy, and it never made _sense_ , that you'd still pick me up, and put an arm around my shoulder, and laugh, and leave the girls sitting to come home with me. And I tried, tried so hard, to keep you from leaving: Because you were the center of my orbit, and when you left I knew this would be the black hole I'd been fearing all along.

 

And still I thought I could keep you with me.

 

But I couldn't, and you fell, and the world went black.)

 

In the end he has to free the Winter Soldier because it's the logical consequence: It's what had to happen, despite _he's the one you stop_. Despite _he's credited with over two thousand assassinations_ , despite his eyes being cold and distant and _nothing like they're supposed to be_ , despite the fact that whoever the Winter Soldier is, he is not any of the existences James Buchanan Barnes ever was –

 

(James, but my friends call me Buck. Buchanan, that is.

-Buck. Bucky?

-Don't say that. Makes it sound like some street kid's name stealing chocolate for a dare.

-How should I know you ain't a street kid stealing chocolate for a dare?

_He chuckles, and there's something in that laugh that will haunt Steve for years, and through worlds and times he never thought he'd see, until the search ends and he still doesn't know if it's a dead end he's run into._

–And I was just about to ask why those guys beat you up like hell in some back alley. Your mouth's a whole lot bigger than your fist, Chrissake.

–Steve. Steve Rogers.

–Nice meeting you, Steve. So, wanna go for a drink 'round here?

 

–

 

_Bucky's hair is messed up from sleeping, and he absently runs a hand through it._

–Sorry about – that.

–No, it's alright, I – we were pretty drunk, weren't we?

_Steve laughs nervously and scratches the back of his neck and puts on his shirt quickly._

–Yeah. Guess so. Hey, I'm sorry, right? I'll just – head home, I think.

–Sure. Sure.

 _And Steve wants to bang his head on a table for not looking into Bucky's eyes_ once _because he's so scared, so unreasonably idiotically absolutely irrationally scared and everything he wants to say is Please Stay. And Bucky bites his lip and seems genuinely sorry and Steve wants to scream at him why am I always the only one to want this to happen, why do you only laugh and moan and pull me closer when you're too drunk to stand up, why do you never say my name, why do you always regret this, and why do I always have to be selfish to get this, why why why why_

 

 _(Years later Bucky will say his name and Steve will_ know _.)_

 

–

 

–Don't do anything stupid.

–How can I? Takin' all the stupid with ya.

 

–

 

–Bucky, it's me, it's Steve.

– _Steve_.

 

–

 

–Bucky, grab my hand, come on, _Bucky –_

 

–

–

 _Silence covering the words that are still unspoken._ )

 

“You know me. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes –” _shut up_ “and you're my friend.”

 

Steve doesn't even know if he's telling himself or the Winter Soldier and hell, maybe he just wants it so badly, so, so, so terribly much, but he sees a flicker in the Winter Soldier's eyes, a flicker that makes Steve realize he's been alone for seven decades.

The flicker dies.

The helicarrier shifts and they both stumble and trip.

 

“You're my mission”, the Winter Soldier shouts.

 

“Then finish it”, Steve replies, “'cause I'm with you.

 

'Til the end of the line.”

 

Bucky pushes him.

 

The world crumbles, tumbles, falls.

 

And if he should go down like this, then so it shall be.

Alone, at least, Steve thinks as he is falling through the quiet mid-air, with nothing moving, and him being able to hear his heart beat and crashing onto the waves with a roaring noise that leaves his aching body thundering and the world goes dark once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPLOAD but my exams are killing me (luckily only three left) and I have to study a lot so this one's also a short chapter. You'll get more in three weeks when I'm done and through with all the exams (I'll also come back to Tumblr then after 4 months and I missed it so much). Meanwhile I'm crying about Bucky headcanons and Sebastian Stan's face.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve wakes up in a hospital bed.

  


(Been there before.)

  


His body screams, but it's covered by foam, and the waves washing over it and taking him with them.

When the wounds heal – too fast, too fast – Steve catches himself wishing they'd stay for longer.

They're all that's left.

  


He's grateful when Natasha doesn't ask any further, just gets the documents together and hands them to him.

“It's all I've got”, she says, “but if you need anything, just call me. Might be able to call in a few more favors.”

Steve thinks it's the first time he hears Natasha apologize. He nods and already knows he won't call her.

  


–

He reads the documents every night for hours after hours, until he can recite every word and they still feel unfamiliar.

Sam helps where he can. Mostly Steve is thankful he's not left alone with his thoughts at the end of the day.

  


“It wasn't your fault”, Sam says, one evening, when they sit on cheap beds in a rundown motel (they've made it a habit to stay overnight at least every third day, to shower and shave and wash their clothes sometimes, and Steve isn't sure if it's because they want it or because they're too scared to fall back into soldier mode).

  


Steve, who's flicking through the pages titled _1994 – 1997_ , looks up. “Sorry?”, he asks, although he's understood the question perfectly fine.

“That he – that all this happened”, Sam says and gestures around somewhat helplessly.

Steve swallows.

  


“You know”, he begins, and then bites his lip for a second, because he's not sure if he can already tell Sam about this, if he can tell _anyone_ about this, but then he gives himself a push.

“When I was thirteen – that winter I caught pneumonia –”, he continues, “we couldn't afford going to the hospital, so I stayed home, and Bucky –” – Sam visibly winces, but Steve acts as if he hadn't seen it – “– came up to my room and brought soup and a blanket and all that stuff, and he stayed overnight and the night after that too, and then another night, and for four days I couldn't leave my bed, and he was there all the time. He just left to get something to eat and drink and that was it. And – every time I got in a fight, he'd somehow _know_ , and he'd show up and punch whoever I was fighting in his guts so hard that guy wouldn't show up again, and –”

  


“And now you think you gotta be there for him just like he was for you”, Sam finishes his sentence and shakes his head. “Look, I know that you – what he was to you, anyways, and I'm not saying that's not right, but – that was different. He fell off a _train_ , Steve.”

  


“And he survived. And I wasn't there”, Steve says quietly. “He'd never have given up on me, Sam. _Never_. And then I went ahead and did just that.”

  


“You did more than anyone else would've”, Sam replies. “You're _doing_ more than anyone else would.”

  


Steve looks up, and all he wants to say is, I wish that were true.

  


But he doesn't, of course he doesn't, he still hasn't learned his lesson, and it is that the words that are unspoken hurt more than the spoken ones.

  


–

  


_It's Bucky's sixteenth birthday, which technically doesn't mean anything – he still isn't allowed to smoke, or drink, or do any of the things he spends all his free time on (c'mon, Steve, my dad_ never _checks the whiskey bottle) –, but apparently Bucky doesn't care for that fact._

  


“ _We're going to Coney Island”, he announces, showing up at Steve's door at eight in the morning before Steve's had a chance to dress half-way decently._

“ _Thought birthday kids usually_ get _something for their special day”, he says, rubbing his eyes and then adding, “'sides, I gotta go to school.”_

 _Bucky snorts. “You actually would rather go to school than spend_ my _birthday with_ me _. Jesus, Steve, you're breaking my heart.”_

_And he raises his eyebrows and just looks so pleading that Steve can't say no ('sides, a day with Bucky always scores out anything else)._

“ _Mum, 'm going out!”, he calls, but he isn't even sure if his mother is awake yet. Better this way, he decides, she wouldn't approve of him going out with Bucky again anyways._

“ _I got something for you, by the way”, Steve says, very shyly and quietly, shortly before he puts on his jacket, and all of a sudden he isn't sure if it was a good idea, but he's gone along with it anyways, so he'll have to pull through._

_Bucky turns around and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? Great! I love presents!”, he grins and Steve could watch Bucky smile forever, but he catches himself just in time. “Stay here”, he says, “be right back!”_

_He runs back to his room and gets out his sketchbook from under the bed where he's hid it for the past few months so Bucky wouldn't find it when he was around. He opens it once more and flicks through the sketches until he gets to the last one._

_When he first decided to draw a portrait of Bucky, they were sitting in Bucky's room and Bucky was just laughing about a joke that hadn't even been that funny, and the sun had shone through the window and just onto Bucky's hair that had been all mussed up, reflecting the light_ just right _and Steve had thought to himself that he wanted to remember Bucky forever like this._

 _He would have expected the drawing to take him an evening, not more, but it presented a huge challenge, so it took him over three months of daily scribbling and erasing and a few times, he'd just thrown it away altogether because he hated how he just couldn't get Bucky's smile right, and whatever he did the drawing just didn't feel like_ Bucky _._

 _And then, a few weeks ago, when he had slept at Bucky's because his mother had night shifts again and Bucky was so excited about a sleepover Steve just couldn't let him down, he had woken up and Bucky had still been asleep and the rising sun, shining through the window like so many months ago, had highlighted his face so perfectly fine and Steve had moved just a bit closer to savour the moment and Bucky's eyelids had fluttered a bit and Steve breathed in a bit, just a bit and Bucky had smelled so so so so so so good and Steve suddenly knew he'd_ got _it._

 _That evening, he went home and finished the drawing and for the first time, it felt_ right _._

 _But now, Steve isn't so sure. He doesn't even know if Bucky_ wants _a picture of himself, and he could kick himself for stupidity, because it's his_ job _do get Bucky something nice and useful for his birthday._

“ _You comin' or do I have to wait all day?”, Bucky calls and Steve breathes in slowly. It's too late to get Bucky anything else anyways, he tells himself, so he tears out the portrait and turns it around, where it says “Happy Birthday, buddy!” For a second he thinks of writing something else, but then he stops himself. It's alright the way it is. It's alright._

“ _Here”, Steve says very, very quietly and hands Bucky the drawing._

_Bucky turns it around and then, he doesn't say anything for a while._

“ _I – I still could get you something else, of course”, Steve mumbles, and now he really feels stupid._

_Bucky looks up._

“ _That's – amazing, Steve”, he murmurs while scratching the back of his neck. “Wow. Whew. Thank you.”_

_Steve's taken aback, but tries not to let it show._

_Bucky looks at the drawing again. “I gotta admit”, he mumbles, “I'd hate to crumple it, man. Can we just head to my place so I can put it in a safe place?”_

“ _Sure”, Steve smiles._

  


_Half an hour later they're on their way to Coney Island and Bucky is so excited like he hasn't been in a long time._

“ _And we have to try out the new rollercoaster”, he grins, “and we can buy cotton candy, I know that new booth, it's amazing!”_

_Bucky's so thrilled Steve just can't stop a dizzy feeling coming up from his stomach and he tries to gulp it down because he's too scared to find out what it is, exactly._

  


_They try out the new rollercoaster. Just as well as three others. By the fifth, Steve feels so sick he isn't sure he's going to last the day, but it's Bucky's day so he just holds his breath and tries not to throw up all over Bucky._

“ _Man, that was fun!”, Bucky grins and heads on, “now I'm hungry, though!”_

_Steve can't think of anything he wants less right now than food, but he's following Bucky (of course he's following Bucky, there is no alternative, there never was)._

_They buy (or rather, Bucky buys) cotton candy at a booth where an incredibly round woman smiles at them and charges them ten cents less than she should, “because such a gentleman's politeness should be rewarded”. She doesn't even lose a look for Steve who is still busy keeping his stomach together._

“ _Alright, alright”, Bucky smiles, “where we going now?”_

_Steve looks up. “You askin' me?”, he tries a crooked smile, but it doesn't help, really._

“ _Sure 'm askin' you. Who else's there?”_

“ _Umm”, Steve begins and lets his eyes search across the booths on the square they're standing on._

  


“ _Can we take a photo?”, he suddenly asks, because there's a photo booth opposite of the big lady who's now spinning new cotton candy – Steve actually just wishes she'd stop that, because the smell is making him even sicker –._

“ _Hm?”, Bucky asks, looking up from the cotton candy, then his face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, let's do that!”, he grins and walks across the square so fast Steve's having trouble keeping up._

  


_The booth is so small they have to scoot close, so close Steve's face would press right into Bucky's neck if he turned to the side a bit, just a bit –_

_Focus._

_When the first photo is taken, they don't even realize it so they're still busy scooting around and figuring out where to sit, and then they realize the photo is already taken, and Bucky laughs and Steve looks at him and Bucky's eyes are wide open, glistening with happiness, and Steve moves a bit closer before he even realizes what he's doing (the second photo is taken) and then his eyes widen in horror as he suddenly gets why his stomach has been rumbling all day (it wasn't the rollercoasters) and why he wanted to draw Bucky so badly and why he sleeps in Bucky's bed whenever possible and why he always wakes up hard those mornings and hopes Bucky hasn't seen anything and why being this close to Bucky feels like the kind of happiness he wants to keep forever (the third photo is taken) and all of a sudden it all makes_ sense _because this is painfully obvious:_

Steve is in love with Bucky.

_(the fourth photo is taken)_

_(the photos are printed out)_

_(Bucky laughs)_

_(“What's bitten you here?”, he asks, “you could at least've tried to look happy, Chrissake.”)_

_(I –)_

_(What?)_

_(I think I –)_

_(What is it?)_

 

_And Steve doesn't finish the sentence, because –_

_And Steve doesn't scoot closer again that day, because –_

_And Steve doesn't sleep over at Bucky's that night, because –_

_And Steve draws Bucky that night again, because –_

_And this Bucky doesn't wear a shirt, and doesn't smile, and has dark eyes, because –_

_And Steve never thinks the sentence again, because –_

  


_(In his mind, the world is wide._

_In his mind, they're at the cotton candy booth again and as Bucky asks him what he wants to do, he doesn't answer, instead turns around and kisses him, at first like a question, like an “is this alright?”, a “can I – just once?”, and then Bucky kisses him back, like a “more than”, like a “go ahead”, and the cotton candy and the photos and the rollercoasters are irrelevant, and Bucky smiles as Steve opens his lips a bit, just a bit, and bites down and –_

_In his mind, Bucky sleeps over and in the middle of the night, Steve wakes up and can't go back to sleep again and turns around and asks “Buck?”, and Bucky just growls “mmhm?”, and Steve whispers, “I can't sleep”, and Bucky rolls over and silences him by smashing their mouths together with a force that would be brutal if it wasn't so hopeful, and Steve smiles into the kiss and pulls Bucky closer and –_

_In his mind, Bucky doesn't ask why he doesn't sleep over anymore._

_In his mind, Bucky doesn't kiss nameless girls while turning away from him._

_In his mind, the world is endless.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes. i did a flashback. again. yes. i'm sorry. but the boys. on coney island. with cotton candy. and teenage feels.
> 
> I hope you can forgive me. And remember when I said I had exams?
> 
> Yeah, that. Responsibilities apparently can't fight my Bucky/Steve feels that make my heart explode most times. I think I slowly get an idea where this story is going with me, and that's very nice.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, you light my day. Feel hugged.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve's dreams stop at some point during traveling. He still wakes up in the middle of the night, but there is no train anymore, no _that's my favorite part_ , not even another dream replacing the previous one. His nights are dark, and quiet, and long.

His hands tremble sometimes. Often. Too often. He just notices it at the back of his mind, and then forgets because as long as he is not holding a rifle it doesn't matter.

But he knocks over cups of coffee he gulps down for no reason at all, and every time a sheet of paper is soaked in brown, he wonders why his hands don't keep still.

 

“Where we going?”, Sam asks one day, when another trace has proven to be a dead end.

Steve thinks for a while, and realizes there is nothing left but the one last straw:

“New York”, he answers, and Sam nods without saying another word, turning around to get on his motorcycle, and Steve follows him.

The driving is good, he thinks as they head down to the highway, it makes it impossible to talk.

When they stand on the Brooklyn Bridge, looking down into the grey water reflecting the clouds, and neither of them has said a word for minutes, Steve scratches the back of his neck and starts, “Listen, Sam –”

“It's okay”, Sam interrupts him. “If you wanna do this alone. I get it.”

Steve looks up in surprise. Sam smiles a crooked smile, and adds, “I'd probably wanna do the same. Just – one thing, Steve?”

“What?”, Steve asks.

“You don't have to do it on your own. Just – call me when it's too much?”

Steve nods. “Sure”, he says (but in the end, he won't).

 

He goes back to their old school first. It's been replaced by a gym, so there's no real use to stay around longer. He still asks if, by any chance, a guy has been around, “this tall, black, longer hair, blue eyes, probably wore a jacket or something –”

“Sorry, man, there's a hundred of those guys comin' in and out every day. Would love to help you out, but I'm afraid I can't. Didn't he have some special – you know, some tattoo or something that'd make it easier to spot him?”

Steve hesitates, then shakes his head. “No, sorry.”

 

He checks his old flat, too, even though the house has been rebuilt since and doesn't resemble his old home one bit – but he figures there still is a chance. Suddenly, a boy playing on the street asks: “Can I help you, mister?”

He smiles. “Thanks, buddy. Actually, I'm looking for someone”, and he kneels down so he can look into the boy's eyes.

The kid stares at him and his eyes widen. “You're Captain America!”, he shouts.

“Shh”, Steve says quietly, “you see, I'm on a sort of private mission. Don't want everyone around here to know what I'm up to, huh?”

“Okay, right”, the kid whispers back, “so what do you need?”

“I'm looking for a guy”, Steve stands up and holds up his hand, “'bout this tall, black, long hair, probably wore long sleeves and – yeah, you seen someone like that?”

The boy's brows furrow and he seems to think very concentrated for a while before he shakes his head. “Sorry, mis- Captain, I ain't seen anyone like that.”

Steve nods. “Alright, thanks for your assistance!”

The boy bites his lip. “Sorry.”

“It's alright, that really helps me”, Steve grins at the kid who hesitates for another moment, then asks: “Why you need him?”

“He's a – friend”, Steve replies and turns around, ready to walk back, but then the boy calls him: “Good luck, Captain!”

“Thanks”, Steve tries a smile, but it doesn't really work out.

 

He hangs around the house that once was his home for two more days, trying to convince himself it's because he doesn't want to miss Bucky ( _the Winter Soldier_ ( _someone else entirely_ )) if – when – if he shows up.

 

But he lied so often, and he's growing tired of it. Growing tired of telling people, telling himself:

He was ( _is, has been_ ) my friend.

I know he might not come back.

I knew ( _know, have known_ ) him.

 

 _Closer_ :

Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.

I cannot walk away from him.

We (we, we, you and me, youandme, youandmeyouandmeyouandmeyoumeyoume) –

 

He starts checking other places (the gym; Bucky's mum's place; every bar he can recall they went to), but at the end of the day he always returns to the house that was his home. Once in these two weeks he comes to the Stark tower, but leaves immediately when he sees Natasha walking in with Clint; and he wonders what exactly makes him flinch.

 

Weeks pass. September turns into October turns into November.

He grows tired of seeing new buildings everywhere that have nothing to do with a past that lies back too long, of asking if anyone has seen: a man, this tall, blue eyes, long black hair (a description that does not fit the man he is searching for, but he is not sure any description would: after all, words cannot capture meaning), of wandering around aimlessly and of hoping.

He dreams again: Confusing, colourful and black-and-white dreams that do not tell him anything and most times he cannot recall what they were about. Sometimes there is whiteness that blinds him.

 

And he wonders:

What is he trying to do, exactly?

He doesn't talk to anyone except when he has to – doesn't eat except when he has to – doesn't sleep except when his body commands him to –

He gets calls, a few times a day, never answers. Sometimes he sends messages to some people so they will not come and look for him.

 

He drowns in a past that is too long ago, and after a while his vision feels blurred –

 

Then it is obvious, as he wakes up one morning.

 

And he goes to Coney Island that day, where he hasn't been for a lifespan.

 

(They told him:

When he asked, What about Coney Island?

What, you used to go there?, Tony calls, returning from the bathroom.

Yeah, –

( _we used to_ )

They closed it down, mostly, Bruce answers, pouring himself another glass of orange juice. After people stopped going there in the 50s, 60s. Some of it has been rebuilt, but it never got such a hotspot again.

Wanna go there?, Tony asks and smirks a bit, even though I wouldn't be too sure they let in senior citizens like you for the rollercoasters.

_Wanna go to Coney Island this afternoon?, Bucky asks, looking at Steve with wide eyes, and he grins, even though I wouldn't give too much on them lettin' you in for the rollercoasters, you know, minimum height 'n' all._

_Shut up, Steve laughs and leans over on the couch, punching Bucky's arm, and Bucky takes his hand and pulls him closer and his eyes are still wide, but he doesn't grin anymore and Steve's breath hitches and –_

 

_Bucky pushes him away, gently, but resolutely, and looks over his shoulder as if had to check no one was in the room._

Nah, Steve murmurs. I was just – wondering.)

 

Coney Island is a desert of left places.

 

Steve is not sure what he hoped to find there, but this was not it:

 

Plastic bags tumbling across the squares. Piles of leaves, fallen off a long time ago, nobody bothered to take care of. Rust feeding on old rollercoaster rails.

 

(He wonders if the rebuilt part is as bad, he guesses not, but he can't go there, he has seen too many rebuildings, and _this here is where it all began_.)

 

The cotton candy booth is gone: of course.

The photo booth is gone: of course.

 

But it all is mixing up, and he doesn't know if –

 

_Steve, what you lookin' at?_

_Nothin'._

_You been starin' at me for the past hour without sayin' a word, are you alright? Do you wanna go home? Are you gettin' sick?_

_No, no, I'm fine, it's fine, I –_ (stop  _caring_ so goddamn much)

 

\- there is anything that draws the line between real and –

 

– _Bucky, don't go –_

 

– unreal his hands are trembling again why –

 

– _I need you, please don't go, I need to know –_

 

– won't they stop shaking he _remembers_ too much –

 

_What happened?, swirling in his head, and making its way out of another one's mouth:_ What happened?

 

I don't know, Steve – says? thinks? screams?

 

You came back, he asks – whispers – shouts.

 

No, I didn't. (That is a statement.)

 

And it is strange and not strange at all: a human lifespan later, it is them again: them, as if one word could capture the essence of whatever they are, which is this:

Boys who do not belong anywhere and never have –

 

Coney Island died.

So did you and I.

Why did you come back?

I told you. I didn't.

 

Bucky –

 

Stop.

 

_Coney Island was a promise, once. The promise that there would always be a: we._

 

He takes a step forward:

No, sorry, sorry, fuck, sorry, fuck, I'm not – I won't touch you, I promise, I'll stay away, like this, sorry, is this alright?

 

A silence passes.

 

Another silence passes.

 

And out of the desert stretching out between two boys who do not belong anywhere and never have:

 

Will you come home?

 

I don't know.

 

His only hope is that there are no lies left to tell –

 

Honestly –

 

This is not how it was supposed to be.

 

A laughter, screeching with emptiness.

Look at me. Is any of this how it was supposed to be?

 

But you are here.

 

A sharp nod. ( _a focused soldier's nod, an understood, sir nod_ )

 

And for the first time: fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am NOT sure what happened. Most of it is "once upon a dream"'s fault, though (the Lana Del Rey version, and mostly the instrumental one).  
> I'm not even sure what I did to Steve in this chapter and I might possibly have fucked up completely and if so I am endlessly sorry.
> 
> And - Coney Island. I've never been there, so my mental image for the last part of the chapter was basically Barnacle Bay from the Simpsons.
> 
> Anyways. Thank you for bearing with me and reading this, wow.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bucky POV! also the end! also i wrote almost 4000 words in one sitting i dont know what my life is ive never written this much at once in my entire life and im really sorry if i fucked up i wrote straight for 6 hours i dont know anything anymore

Welcome home.

  


What is a home?

  


The man says:

Home is

Well-known. ( _I knew him_ )

  


Coming back. ( _where to_ )

  


Touches you let yourself fall in. ( _go away, go away, go away, go away, go away_ – I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean to I'm sorry – )

  


Laughing. (you used to find this funny –

 _funny_ –

 _funny_ –

 _funny_?

It's a word he knows. Knew. (know?)

But like every other word: no meaning.)

  


Finding the lost.

  


Home would be: falling asleep.

  


_But he never sleeps when on a mission._

_When he is not on a mission, he is put back into sleep._

_What is his mission now?_

_Mission, sir?_

_Mission, sir?_

_Target?_

_Target?_

_**Target**?_

You don't – Bucky, there is no mission.

_Target?_

Please come back.

_Target?_

The man is crying. (Weakness)

The man approaches him. (Back)

The man holds up his hands, showing he has no weapons. (Weakness, or: Bluff)

_Kneel down._

He waits for orders.

Waits.

And waits.

Bucky, please don't do this, please, this is not you, this isn't you at all.

He could kill the man, but he has no orders.

He feels –

 _Feels_?

This has happened before: Overstimulation.

Too much light, too much noise, too much pain, and he has to focus.

But this – different: overstimulation that is not caused by light and noise and pain. The light is dim, time: 0430, there is no sound except the man crying (weakness, kill him now), he is not injured, mission report, undamaged, but: overstimulation from within.

_Mission report: Impossible, unreachable, unmakeable_

You're alright, it's alright, I'm here, –

_Why do you talk._

I – thought it –

_Stop._

Sure, sure, do you need anything, want anything, do you want something to eat, to drink, want to sleep? you could sleep or, or we could watch a movie, listen to some of – I got some of your favorite songs here, I can cook dinner, any preferences?

_Just – stop_

_A scream: why?_

_Because you (_ you? _) failed to eliminate the target._

_Target: spits blood._

_Target:_ fuck, Bucky –

 _Target:_ I'm sorry.

  


_The man (_ man? _) in the mirror is:_

_A weapon. Replaceable. A mission._

  


_Water on his lips: Salt._

_The man in the mirror looks like the man on the floor: Blood and water paint his face._

  


Coughing. _(This is an exterior stimulus. This is a sound.)_

The man on the ground – not on the ground anymore.

Holding onto the wall. Meaning: not a threat anymore. (was he before?)

Holding onto the wall. Coughing.

And a word, shining but – he knows he has not read it before in a file:

  


_What is Brooklyn?_

  


_(He knows, but: he does not._

_Brooklyn, one of New York City's five boroughs._

_This he has read before._

_What he has not read in a file:_

  


_A boy whose face resembles the man holding onto the wall, coughing. Pulling himself up so he can stand. A voice, coming from his own mouth, which is not his own mouth: “What would you do if I wasn't around every damn time you got yourself punched up again?”_

“ _Find someone who wouldn't laugh every damn time. That was close, though”, the boy says, corners of his mouth twitching. “Sure it was”, someone says. Someone's hand (not his, this is flesh) ruffles the boy's hair. “You've been beaten up in almost every back alley Brooklyn can offer. Now c'mon, let's head home. You won't wanna go to the bar like this, what would the girls think?”_

“ _Nothing”, the boy mumbles, “they'll be busy staring at you anyways”, and someone does not hear that, but he does. What does it mean? What does the boy want?)_

  


Holding onto the wall, coughing, the man looks like the boy but taller older bigger different. “You are – Steve”, because that is the boy's name, he remembers now.

But Steve is: Steven Rogers is: the target.

“You are – Steven Rogers”, and this time he fails the mission completely because this is the target, this is the target, shoot it, kill it, make it stop breathing.

No – he thinks, says, screams. Not killing him.

“It's alright, I'm not going to fight you”, the man (boy (Steve)) says.

He looks at the ground and up again and his eyes dart in the room, trying desperately to find something that will help the mission be completed faster. (But focus. Your mission right in front of you, just shoot it, kill it, make it stop breathing. But not him. Not him. Not him.)

  


He goes out of the room, to the bedroom he has slept in.

He thinks.

The boy is there again, this time older. Fifteen, sixteen maybe. His face is bruised, blood sticking to his hands and cheeks. A hand – could be his, this is the right one – moving up to his face, cleaning away the blood. A sharp intake of breath. _Ow_. (A silence.) _Sorry, Steve_. The boy breathing in and out, too conscious, too focused. _Bucky? – Hm? – Thanks for patchin' me up. – Can't let you out like this now, can I? – No, I mean it, Buck. Really. Thanks for being there. –_ The hand moves down to let the rag fall down on the ground of a flat in Brooklyn which is the place where the boy has been beaten up and the other boy has patched him up and dragged him home and touched his face with a knot in his stomach that neither the other boy nor he can understand. – _I could never let you lie there, just because some sonsuvabitch decide to beat you up. Hear me? I ain't ever gonna let that happen._ (A silence.) Moving closer like the other boy wants them to but the knot in his stomach becomes bigger. The other boy backs up. ( _He, in the now, is relieved_. Relieved?)

  


Time 0827, Status awake undamaged.

A lie. He is not undamaged.

Time 0831, Status awake damaged.

  


Bucky? I heard – I wanted to check on you, oh my God, Bucky, come here, come here, let me just –

Arms entwining his shoulders, every muscle screaming back back back, every nerve screeching _danger_ _ **abort mission immediately**_ , but he does not. _He_ does not? Who? Who makes his body stay still except for the shaking caused by something he does not understand he has not read about this they have not told him about this he does not understand why did they not tell him this would happen they lied they lied his fist curls up and his stomach does too there is a hot heavy ball inside his throat and this is: Anger.

The man pulls him closer (wrong direction, abort _abort_ _**abort**_ ), and 0834 his cheeks taste ( _taste?_ ) salty, and 0835 he turns around and the man has the boy's face and he has the other boy's face and they fit together like the boys did but they cannot, he has never met this man, he is a mission, a weapon, replaceable. Their bodies are not the boys' bodies, and the man's neck is not the boy's neck but as he puts up a hand around it and pulls the man closer so his head rests against the man's shoulder it _feels_ like it.

  


But that is impossible for multiple reasons:

One. Feeling is betrayal. Feeling is weakness.

(He has seen it: Five decades ago (when did time matter), Dallas, Texas, USA (when did place matter), a man in a car, laughing and waving because the people around him are cheering, unfocused, a woman next to him talking to him and waving at the people, too. Him, directing the sniper rifle at the man's head. A perfectly aimed shot. Mission report. Complete.)

Two. He is a weapon.

( _You're my friend_.)

Three. Three. Three.

  


Since when does he have reasons for action?

There are no reasons. There is a mission.

 

Why, he asks.

Why what, the man asks back, whose voice is humming as he leans back against the man's neck.

But no, this is a question he does not know yet, although he knows the answer.

  


0935

You fell asleep.

_He is not coming back._

What do you mean?

_He is not coming back._

Who's not coming back?

_The man you want to come back._

Bucky, don't say that, look –

_This is not Bucky._

(The man sits down.)

What you talking about, sure you're Bucky, remember? You even told me the other night, you started remembering stuff, like when you patched me up after I'd been in a fight again, or when we went out with the girls, or how your mum used to give me so much cake I was stuffed to the top, and how we went to Coney Island, all that, you just have to –

_I am not getting better._

_(_ I _? Who the hell is_ I _? What the fuck is_ I _supposed to be? You're a fucking weapon, that's what you are. Put him back. Wipe him.)_

Course you are. It just –

_Stop lying stop lying stop lying stop_

_I don't know who you are_

_but you think I am supposed to know but I cannot do that I can't be whoever you want me to be I don't know I don't know I don't know you are someone I should know but I don't mission report failure failure failure_

_stop_ touching _me, fuck_

(The man shakes his head. Slowly reaches up with his hand no no no abort but touches him regardless touches his hand metal cold flesh warm all the time looking at him is this alright is this alright but no words. _words can't convey meaning_. And salt on his tongue burning burning through his body until he disappears and there is nothing left – because his body is everything that is left of him.)

I ain't alright either. Not sure if I ever will be.

Can't sleep, can't even pull a decent shot, look at me, fuck, if you're a wreck then so am I, but that's how it goes, I guess.

_Who are you_

A laugh: cold hard dark

Wish I could figure that out. We don't belong anywhere, Buck, and sometimes I wonder if we ever did.

_You and he –_

You and I.

_(A number in his mind: Nineteen – Thirty – Three)_

_Where you said he came back –_

I said you came back.

– _where was that?_

You mean Coney Island?

_Why – why would he go there?_

You went there. That was you. (The man, crying again: Weakness, but no, something else – wipe them away –)

We used to go there, back before –

_Why?_

_(Again a question he does not understand. He asks questions. He never asks questions.)_

Because it was fun. We used to save up, sometimes for weeks, so we could go there for one day, try out the new rollercoasters, buy cotton candy.

_(He searches his mind, but there is nothing.)_

_I don't remember._

A laugh again cold tensed up holding back and the man does not pull him closer this time this is not what he wants give him what he wants but _he cannot remember no matter what he tries_ and this is: Bitterness.

  


A creaked voice silently weeping but in reality weapons do not talk they just kill: _Will you stay?_

A warm voice heavy with ( _now he knows_ ) Bitterness: Couldn't let you lie here.

A creaked voice: _Will you stay?_

A warm voice: Sure I will.

A creaked voice: _Will you stay?_

_(repeat mission: repeat mission: repeat mission:)_

A warm voice: Yes, yes, yes I'll stay as long as you want me to.

A creaked voice: _Want._

A warm voice: I'm here.

(Not: It will be alright, which is a lie, which the man who was once a boy who was once Steve now knows.)

_Mission report: failure._

Hands entwining his waist. Salt burning his throat.

_Why did you go to Coney Island._

Figured you might be there.

_Why_

_(It is as if he was near drowning. He has to ask, and ask, and ask, and ask.)_

Told ya, we used to go there, right? Was a special place, somehow.

_Why_

(A gulp.)

_Why special_

(A laugh.)

And it is there:

  


“ _Buck, we wanted to go out to the bar and meet some girls, now come_ back _.”_

“ _No damn way, Rogers, we're goin' to Coney Island.”_

“ _Fucking hell, Bucky, we went there last week and it's a twenty minute walk and we – you got a date with – Janet?”_

“ _No, c'mon, it'll be_ fun _.”_

 _Steve sighs, then shrugs. “There won't ever be any use in trying to change your mind, will it?”, he calls and hurries to catch up with Bucky who just laughs. “Nope”, he chuckles and throws an arm around Steve, pulling him closer. “The girl will_ hate _you”, Steve mumbles. “The girls isn't there, is she?”, Bucky asks, and adds, “besides, she's a bore, seriously.” Steve shrugs. “I thought she was nice, last night”, he says quietly, and Bucky looks at him and pulls his arm away, trying to seem sober. “Nice”, he says, “sweet little Steve actually likes girls who'd've thought that?” “Of course I like girls, what do you_ think _?”, Steve suddenly shouts. “Whoa there”, Bucky laughs, “calm down, didn't mean it like that.” Somewhere in the haze of his drunk confused mind something about this feels wrong, but he doesn't want to wonder about it._

“ _Why are we going to Coney Island?”, Steve asks, obviously trying to change the subject. “Cause I wanna have some fun”, Bucky answers and walks a bit faster. For some reason he can't look at Steve right now, doesn't want to either._

_They walk in silence for a while._

“ _So, what are we gonna do?”, Steve asks, trying to hide he's out of breath once the flashing lights of the rollercoasters are visible in the distance. Bucky scratches the back of his neck. “You choose a ride, I pay.” “Buck, you don't have to –” “– and what if I want to? Now, you goin' or what?” Steve nods. “Right. So.” “Ever tried the Cyclone?”, Bucky asks and has to hide a grin. Steve shakes his head. “Right, we're goin' there”, Bucky laughs and drags Steve along. Needless to say, Steve is not quite as enthusiastic, and even less so after the ride is over and Bucky's eyes are shining brightly, but Steve is busy throwing up behind a bush. “Fucking hell”, he curses under his breath. “We are never going to do that again”, he says to Bucky who can hardly hide his laugh, putting emphasis on each single word. “Sorry”, Bucky chuckles, “don't do that”, Steve shouts and pushes him and then has to laugh himself, “tell me why exactly I still come here with you?”_

“ _Dunno, is it the looks or character?”, Bucky teases him and then puts up his hands in defense as Steve wants to push him over again. “Sorry. Really. Tell you what, could I make up for it by paying for your drinks tonight?” “Thought you didn't wanna go out drinking”, Steve mumbles, but Bucky knows he already got him. “Yeah, 'nother bar maybe, don't really wanna meet Julia right now.” “Janet”, Steve corrects him. “Whatever”, Bucky shrugs and puts an arm around Steve, pulling him closer again. “Let's go, huh?”_

_Sometimes Bucky can't believe how much Steve is able to drink, and at some point he loses count exactly how many beers Steve has had – but that might be because he is getting considerably drunker, too. In fact, so drunk that it's too much of an effort for him to turn his head anywhere else than pointed at Steve, so he's settled on looking at Steve for the past half hour and his mind tells him he should not be so obvious but he cannot be less obvious because that might mean not looking at Steve. (Somewhere this argumentation has to be wrong.)_

_And at some point Steve stumbles to the bathroom, hardly keeping upright, and Bucky decides to go after him, whyever, but he's learned to trust his drunk mind (usually it's good in knowing what could be fun). “Buck”, Steve says with surprise and the hint of something else in his voice. Bucky holds up a finger. “Don't say anything”, he slurs and pulls Steve into the nearest stall, closing the door with his left hand while holding Steve close with his right one. “Buck –” “Please just don't say anything”, Bucky begs quietly because he isn't sure he would know what to explain, what is left to say about this, about him putting an arm around Steve whenever possible, laughing into Steve's ear when he's had a few drinks too many and trying to convince himself there's nothing to be ashamed of, sleeping over at Steve's and waking up having thrown an arm around Steve, not being able to look away when Steve licks his lips like just before, dropping his dates with Janet or Maria or Veronica or whatever they were called because he suddenly feels disgusted by the idea of making out with them and instead another idea pushes into his head that should be the disgusting one but it isn't in fact it's his favorite idea of them all, and right now, right here, he is drunk enough to not care at all, but that might change as soon as Steve says anything._

“ _Please don't say anything”, Bucky repeats and then he realizes he's crying (why, from what, for what) and he tries to imagine Steve being a girl because he's done this countless times with girls before, but this is_ different _, this is_ scary _, this is bigger than everything else, not even because Steve is a guy, but because Steve is_ Steve _and for the first time Bucky is afraid, but now there's no going back, so he tilts his head a bit and closes his eyes and breathes in Steve's smell and god, he might just break down right away, but instead he leans forward and his lips touch Steve's, and Bucky expects him to pull back instinctively, but instead Steve pushes forward and their mouths meet with a crash that is more powerful than anything Bucky has ever done, his arms entwine Steve's waist and he bites down a bit and Steve gasps and then it's Steve who pushes his tongue between Bucky's teeth and he opens up his mouth and then it's all sloppy and wet and_ too much _and Steve doesn't stop, that's the one thing that matters, Steve doesn't_ stop _and Bucky can't stop smiling into the kiss because this is too much, too much, too much and exactly what he wants and even more and –_

 _When they stop, ages later because they're out of breath, gasping and grinning at each other, Bucky wants to jump off the Empire State Building. Fuck, he thinks and then he closes his eyes for a second. Fuck. Fuck. “I'll be –”, he says and never ends the sentence, trying to be or at least sound sober, and moves past Steve and it does not help that all he wants is to crush his mouth on Steve's_ again _and he tries to convince himself they're just drunk as hell and there are no girls around, but honestly he has no idea what he can say about this, think about this, do about this._

_Steve follows him until he's home. Asks what this is about. Tells Bucky “you can't just leave me here like this”. Tells him “there's nothing to be ashamed of you know”. Tells him a hundred things Bucky wants to hear more than anything but he can't can't can't they're too much. “Shut up”, Bucky shouts and he wants to close the door, but Steve shoves in a foot. “Please, Buck”, he begs, and this is the worst because he says his name. Bucky sits down on the staircase, breathing heavily, and he might be crying. “Go away”, he shouts as if they were five-year-olds, and Steve just sits down next to him and puts an arm around him, and whispers “it's alright”. And they go upstairs in Bucky's room, and he doesn't want Steve to still follow him except he does, and Bucky doesn't look at him, doesn't doesn't doesn't but then he does and Steve just looks up, saying very quietly: “I'm gonna stick with you anyways, so this is about you.”_

_And Bucky knows that, and it doesn't help. Doesn't help he can't think of anything better than pulling Steve closer and kissing him again, pulling him on the bed with him, doesn't help he takes off Steve's and his shirt, moving down from Steve's mouth to his neck to his sternum, leaving trails of his kisses everywhere, doesn't help he hardly can keep back moaning Steve's name later on, but he won't go that far, he won't._

  


The boy called Bucky spins around in his head and he understands and at the same time doesn't understand at all.

And he knows there is something: Because what he just remembered is long long past and not here and will never be here because the boy called Bucky died a long time ago and never came back to life and the boy called Steve was left alone and there is salt on his tongue, again, his heart which is not there anymore is torn apart in a million pieces because this is not how the story of two boys who did not belong anywhere should have ended, this is how it should have begun:

  


_Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone on Coney Island?_

_Yeah, and I threw up?_

_This isn't payback, is it?_

_Now why would I do that?_

  


And in the now he who once was Bucky then died then killed then came back suddenly knows: this was _more than_. This was, and never will be again, and his body is shaking for all the past possibilities and dead promises and forgotten lives, and this is: Grief.

  


This is what his feelings were: Pain, emptiness, aggression.

This is what his feelings are: Anger, Bitterness, Grief.

  


This is what he wants: A past long gone.

This is what he understands: There are wounds that never heal and there are memories that are forever lost. There are chances never taken and events that never became reality.

But this is two boys who do not belong anywhere but to each other and they are with each other again, and in a small flat in Brooklyn seventy years ago and on a huge floor on a skyscraper now there are four words that stayed the same throughout lives created and destroyed and spent and unspent:

  


It will be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THANK YOU FOR READING I LOVE YOU LOTS AND I'M SORRY


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